


to the light that shines through the window:

by SpoKenYouth



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-05-23 07:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14930096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpoKenYouth/pseuds/SpoKenYouth
Summary: jihyo’s heart isn’t supposed to function, but it does, mina realises.





	1. sunlight [i]

15 July 2005

The familiar sting of the alcohol-sterilised air welcomed, or rather, un-welcomed eight-year-old Jihyo as she stepped into the building, tugging the almost bigger than her body, worn down duffle bag along with all her might as the glass doors slid open.

“Miss Park Jihyo?”

She could only nod through her heavy panting at the heavily accented Korean, but she couldn’t really blame the Japanese nurse. After all, she was in Japan. 

The tall lady’s black heels paired with knee-high white socks didn’t make her stature any less towering over Jihyo’s scrawny body, and neither did the smile plastered on her face prevent Jihyo’s brave facade from faltering at all.

Jihyo isn’t stupid. She knows that she’s only picking up every detail about the woman to find something of comfort, and she knows that she’s really not brave at all, if her own wobbly knees were any indicator. Or her heartbeat going faster than the train she took to get here. Japan really is as advanced as the doctors in Korea had said, Jihyo thinks.

She also knows that it’s perfectly reasonable for a young kid who left her home and is now in a foreign country for a major surgery, where no one around her understands her, not just what she’s speaking, to be absolutely terrified. Yet, her mother always said that she was mature for her age, and Jihyo desperately wanted to stay that way, maybe to avoid the looks of pity people think she can’t see.

The sting, Jihyo had concluded about halfway down the corridor, was definitely worse than back in Korea, but she found that she liked it, the smell comforted her, being the only familiarity in the sea of unreadable characters, and Jihyo swore to learn the language in a month’s span.

She was jolted out of her thoughts when the nurse informed her of their arrival at what was to be her new home, and Jihyo was grateful that she was able to vaguely understand the slur of Korean words. In fact, she probably would have jumped in shock from the sudden announcement if she wasn’t still groggy from having just arrived from a 4am plane ride, or if she wasn’t completely exhausted by something completely different, but Jihyo liked to think that it was the former.

101

Jihyo almost scoffed at her new room number because she could probably think of a hundred and one reasons in about two seconds why an eight-year-old kid shouldn’t be thinking all these thoughts, and why she shouldn’t be here at all.

But she accepts it in the next two.

She slides open the door, and isn’t surprised to see two long rows of beds in the otherwise empty room, knowing her mother could hardly afford sending her to Japan, luxuries like a more private room not even being a point of consideration. But Jihyo figures that with her literally being Japan’s big project, or the youngest one to risk her life to save it in a medical gamble, or as they liked to call it, achievement, they had given her the biggest room they had, and she was probably going to have it all to herself for a while. 

There were nine beds, a row of four on each side, and one in the middle of the two rows, at the very end of the walkway, against the wall, light shining on it through the window.

It’s strange, remembering how everyone told her how rainy it was going to be.

Jihyo wasn’t the type to want to be seen the moment someone opens the door, and she guesses that no one in this building really wants that either, but something about the way the area almost lights up ethereally makes her find herself beside that very bed, neatly placing her only clean set of clothes into the cupboard. The clothes were worn down and a size too small, and trying to make them look better in the wooden structure was utterly useless, but maybe that would make them, or her, seem a little less pathetic. Maybe the lights could magically make her okay. Make everything okay.

Jihyo’s only been staring out the window with her back slumped, thin arms left lifeless at the side for a couple of hours, which would be a long time in lots of other situations, before that same nurse slides open the door and starts saying something again, which Jihyo takes the next three minutes to comprehend as the Japanese lady stares at her expectantly with a smile Jihyo doesn’t know is friendliness or pity. Or friendliness out of pity. Pity that she had to rely on someone else’s death to live?

In all honesty, Jihyo’s been thinking about it since the happiness from finding a donor just yesterday wore off in about ten minutes. And that thought makes Jihyo absolutely terrified.

Her heart’s beating rapidly, and now she doesn’t know if it’s because she’s afraid of dying, or afraid of living. 

She knows she’s thinking too much, it takes too much energy, and wills herself to stop, but the thoughts come back to haunt her and she again starts to think, that maybe being mature isn’t so good after all.

That night, Jihyo wears a much cleaner, new, three sizes too big for her gown, and enters through another set of sliding glass doors, where the sting in the air is even worse than before.

The cold air hits her skin, but the goosebumps were already on her trembling arms, and she suddenly is even more afraid than she thought was possible, her body seeming like it’s shrinking, her stomach feeling like it’s swirling, and her head is definitely floating.

Maybe her weak body’s just too tired.  
Maybe it’s the anaesthesia.

Maybe the irrational beating in her chest is just her malfunctioning heart.


	2. sunlight [ii]

2 January 2014

“It’s the new girl!”

The still high-pitched “sorry”, or should have been warning, was a little too late for Jihyo’s liking, but at least now she didn’t need about a full minute to translate it using her still mediocre, but definitely improved Japanese since two years ago when Sana joined. Jihyo couldn’t complain though, because the newcomer took the brunt of well, Sana, as the blur of what was supposed to be Sana crashed into her, the overexcited girl only afterwards mumbling the shy apology, saying it was meant to be a hug.

Jihyo learns that the now flustered girl, who somehow still manages to keep her aura of elegance, is Mina, Myoui Mina, so quietly that Jihyo has to strain a little to catch it. 

Jihyo also notices that since Mina’s arrival, the pouring rain had stopped all of a sudden, the light now shining through the window and upon Mina’s face making her look ethereal, and Jihyo never thought moles could look that magical.

As for Mina, she learns that the girl, hair in ponytails and around the same height as her, is Sana, Minatozaki Sana, in a pitch that almost ruins everyone’s eardrums.

Jihyo introduces herself and apologises again on Sana’s behalf, just liked she did when Dahyun, Chaeyoung and Tzuyu first arrived. Sure, everyone was glad to meet a new friend, Jihyo especially happy to finally have someone that’s like her, but Momo looked a little upset that Sana was this excited to have a Japanese roommate, considering Momo and practically the entire hospital has been with her this whole time.

The eight of them didn’t like explaining why there were so many foreigners in their room, they never found each other foreign anyway.

Jihyo smiles when Mina relaxes a little when she gets introduced to the calmer roommates, the first being the eldest, Nayeon, and Jihyo remembers referring to her as the girl with bunny-like front teeth and whom she had profusely apologised to for not calling “unnie” the moment the older girl informed her of their surprising difference in age. The then thirteen-year-old Jihyo could have sworn the fifteen-year-old Nayeon was younger, or at least the same age. As much as Nayeon likes to blackmail her with that one mistake from years ago, Jihyo is still very much grateful for Nayeon being there, saving her from her five years of loneliness and comforting her with conversations in Korean in the middle of the night.

To be honest, Jihyo wouldn’t say any of them were calm, especially not the times when Nayeon went into “bunny-mode” as they called it, also known as the not so rare times that she excitedly hopped around the room. But even that was nothing compared to Jeongyeon, who though nobody thought was that funny, did cheer Jihyo up with all her crazy antics, making her forget why any of them were here, or why they could only run around for two minutes before burning out.

Momo, other than her constant affection for humans, had an even bigger one for food, and Jihyo had never dared even go near her during mealtimes, ever since poor Dahyun had tried to tease Momo by stealing a piece of jokbal that Jihyo’s mom brought over during a visit. Jihyo didn’t really want to remember the complete change in Momo’s expression as Dahyun rapidly backed away.

And the one everyone already knew the moment they came through the door, Sana, who although was excessively loud and overwhelmingly enthusiastic, was also incredibly kind, teaching Jihyo more Japanese in two months than she’d learned in her first seven years.

The jokester Dahyun, was unlike Jeongyeon, actually hilarious, sometimes to the point that Jihyo cringed, but she loved taking care of the younger Korean anyway.

And then there was Chaeyoung, practically Jeongyeon’s younger sister, whose dad jokes Jihyo found herself forcibly laughing at. Nevertheless, the younger girl’s spirit was something so special that Jihyo never failed to beam at it, unintentionally.

And of course, everyone’s unspoken favourite, Tzuyu. The little Taiwanese girl almost toddled in, wide-eyed and afraid, at the age of thirteen, but contrary to her doll or angel-like looks that the seven of them cooed over, she was really a savage maknae. Even so, she always saved some heartwarming affection for the older ones.

It seems now though, that five minutes in, there’s another favourite in town, Mina’s blush-filled entrance earning her everyone’s attention, especially Nayeon’s famous pinching of cheeks.

Mina finally gets past the swarm of girls, and she heads to the bed next to Jihyo’s, the only one unoccupied for years, mainly because it was also the only one that was out of the path of sunlight from the window. Jihyo felt bad really, even offering to switch beds, but Mina just smiled shyly as she waved her hands in refusal.

It’s strange, really, that the corner suddenly seemed a little brighter to Jihyo.

Now she thinks again though, as she watches the rest happily laughing away as they get to know their newest roommate, that maybe she isn’t so happy that Mina’s like her.


	3. drizzle

2 January 2014

Jihyo stares at the ceiling, etching the striped pattern of streetlights through the blinds. It’s quiet, not really, but she’s already accustomed to the not so light snoring that filled the room.

A loud crash and a series of high-pitched yelps sharply cuts through the silence, and Jihyo is even more jolted to reality than possible. Her heart palpitations grow faster and everything seems louder and colder, goosebumps creeping up her arms as the low voice of a man begins shouting in a rush of Japanese.

She quickly glances across the room, thankful that the rest are heavy sleepers, as well as tired out by their burst of excitement when meeting Mina. At the thought of her newest roommate, Jihyo immediately looks to the side, and is surprised to see the pair of almost glowing eyes in the dark corner. 

“Don’t worry, that’s just my dad.”

Jihyo almost falls off the mattress in shock upon hearing the almost whisper of Mina. But with another distant loud thud coming from the lobby, the light shining through the window betrays Mina, and her indifferent attitude shatters in the form of watery eyes.

Unknowingly, Jihyo has already slid off the hospital bed, only noticing that she’s heading over when the chill from the floor touches her toes. 

The sound of wheezing hurries her as she slips to Mina’s bed, and maybe it’s because she has always taken care of everyone else, or maybe it’s because she herself cries way too often, but her arms naturally melt around Mina’s shaking body as she sobs.

“I’m s-s-supposed to be used to it b-by now”

Jihyo barely figures out what she’s saying through the hiccuping. 

“I paid you so much to save my daughter, but now you aren’t even giving her a proper room?”

And then, she realises. And a sharp pang hits her straight in the heart.

The girl who’s now curled up in her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks and drenching her pillow, isn’t crying because her dad’s furious, or because she’s literally dying. It’s because her dad’s furious that she’s dying.

And Jihyo’s felt it all before, still does, even when her mom visited last week, and they cried together, the guilt eating her up seeing the wrinkles that had still been faint the previous summer, and the calloused hands that felt even rougher when she held them. Why she had been here for nine years, apart from her family as they worked their health away for her own.

The younger ones don’t talk much about this, but these tears were ever familiar with Nayeon and Jeongyeon, as they cried along with the skies.

But now, it’s so bright that it may not even be night, and as Mina’s sobs get softer, and her body stills, it starts to drizzle. Yet the light seems even brighter, as Mina turns to Jihyo and smiles, her gums showing.

And for a moment, Jihyo forgets about the pain, the guilt, and the taste of salt. She forgets the cold floor, the rough blankets, and the sound of stomps beyond the room door. She stares at the gummy grin and the crescent eye smile, and watches as Mina’s eyelids droop and slowly shut, smile still ever bright.

She rubs the tears off her cheeks in a haste as she tucks Mina in. She thought nine years was enough time to get used to it, but Jihyo realises, she never really got rid of the pain, physical just turning emotional. Yet, eyes following the path of the lights, they seem to have finally found their way to the dark corner, illuminating Mina’s face, and her smile, and Jihyo has never felt so happy.

Jihyo’s always wanted to forget, but now she’s got something to remember, and maybe it’s because Mina’s like her, a lot, and with the sides of her mouth curling up as well, she hopes that in some ways, Mina will become like her.


End file.
